Lovers' Reunion

I strutted up to the bar and ran my fingers through my hair. The strands were still oily with pomade and residue stuck to my hands as they pushed through my pompadour. Taking a seat set away from the crowd of barflies I ordered my usual- Irish whiskey with ginger beer.

       “Here you go, hun,” the not unattractive female bartender said kind enough as she set the drink in front of me. “That’ll be six dollars please.”

       “Here, keep the change,” I told her handing her a ten-dollar bill. I took a sip and grimaced ever-so-slightly. She had made it strong, the way I like it if I’m not drinking the whiskey straight.

       Pulling the ashtray closer to my reach, I lit a cigarette and sipped the drink some more. The ice was already melting to dilute it, but I wasn’t trying to get hammered tonight anyway.

       “You look like hell,” the waitress told me. She was using an ancient rag to wipe an empty beer mug that one of the barflies that had gone away left.

       “I’ve had worse,” I told her before taking a deep drag. My cocktail was almost gone already so I polished the final sip off.

       “This one’s on the house,” she said, dropping another mix in front of me before I could even order.

       “Thanks,” I said graciously. She gave a smile and nod before attending to someone else. She looked bored as she handed the frat guy a seltzer beverage so he could return to his group of other frat bros and sorority sisters.

       The bartender returned to me after receiving payment for the can she gave the guy, he didn’t leave a tip. “So, why do you look so haggard in my bar?” she asked. The woman was a redhead of about the age of forty with bright green eyes and a pretty smile- if it weren’t for the lack of an accent, I would have guessed the woman was from Ireland.

       I couldn’t tell the woman that I was a Navy veteran who’d just moved back to his hometown after a particularly long deployment. I also couldn’t speak about how I was half wishing to and wishing not to see his high school sweetheart after four years of being broken up, so I settled on the easiest thing I could think of, “Just a long day I guess. Trying to acclimate myself to moving back here.”

       “Oh where did you move back here from?” the woman asked with pep.

       “Uhhhh,” I have always spoken like I’m tripping over my words (making me sound like a liar most times) but I struggled to think of what to say without lying, “California,” which was my homeport, but as a Seabee, I had spent the better part of the last eight months avoiding bullets and mortar shells in Syria.

       “Oh!” the bartender sounded impressed, but she knew I wasn’t revealing the whole truth, “Were you there for school?"

       "No, work,” I said. I was dreading having to tell her I was military. I hated how people reacted to it. Not to mention, it brought up images of friends dying in puddles of blood-stained grass.

       “Well, what did you do?” I was getting uneasy but was too mousy to tell the woman to fuck off.

       “Uhhh,” I said dumbly again, “construction.” It wasn’t a lie, Seebeas are Construction Battalion.

       Just then, I noticed her walk through the door. Kay Adams. She was just as perfect as the day she left me with her flawless pale skin and dirty blind hair. Blue eyes shining under the dark lights as if they illuminated on their own. She was wearing a short black skirt with a white and black striped blouse that clutched her body in a complimentary manner. Eight months of watching good Men die didn’t hold up to the pain in my heart for seeing her.

       I didn’t hear what the bartender said but I interrupted, “Hey, can I have a shot of the strongest whiskey you have?” A stupid-looking buffoon of a man (who looked older) stalked in behind her and put his arm around Kay’s shoulders. “Actually, make it a triple, please,” I said upon viewing this.

       The bartender followed my eyes and gave a slight nod like she understood. Years of serving drinks to lonely men at her bar had taught her the facial expression of heartbreak, “Sure thing, doll,” this woman was a saint, “the rest of your drinks are on me,” she told me as I held out another ten.

       I tried to protest but she held firm then left to deal with a group of sad-looking middle-aged people who had wandered in.

       I finished my second drink and downed the triple shot, I was starting to feel a pressure in my sinuses as my brain started with the slightest bit of fogginess. Though I knew I would regret it later tonight as my room spun like a top as I lay in bed, I decided drunkenness would be a good idea for the night after all.

       The bartender- whose name I still hadn’t learned- plunked another whiskey and ginger between my hands with a wink. I smiled graciously and was about to say something when she noticed something behind my shoulder and glided away.

       “Hello, Michael,” a voice spoke in my left ear. It was angelic. Smooth and low but with a hint of poutiness that was just enough to be attractive and not annoying. I had taken a bullet to the thigh on my first deployment and four pieces of shrapnel to the right side of my torso on my second; I would have gladly relived the pain of either of those incidents for the pain I felt after hearing that voice after over four long years. “How have you been?”

       My heart launched like a bottle rocket and seemingly exploded in my throat. I felt like the blood rush from my head to my feet like a fighter pilot who’s accelerated to fast. My hands shoot slightly. Before replying, I took a deep sip of my drink and lit another smoke. “Kay, how have you been?” I tried to sound cool and collected. I couldn’t tell if my attempts worked.

       “Do you mind if I take this seat next to you?” she asked indicating which one she meant. I gestured my hand to say go ahead and she sat down. Kay looked completely stunning under the amber electric light that was made to resemble fire. It looked steampunky. She wore dark eye shadow to accentuate the majesty of her gemstone blue eyes and bright red lipstick. We both knew how wild her red lipstick used to drive me. It still did its trick I discovered while looking at her. “How was Syria?”

       I felt a little angry that she could come up and be so calm after everything that had happened. Breaking up with me on our second anniversary of being together citing that she didn’t want to sit around while I got myself killed overseas. I had sent her three unanswered letters in boot camp and another two in schooling before catching the hint when I had arrived at my first squadron and went on my first deployment.

       “It was fine,” I didn’t want to tell her about my injuries or that I still saw the faces of men dying while trying to sleep some nights, “hot.”

       We made uncomfortable idle small talk before Kay asked me if we could go somewhere more private to talk. I knew I should have just left and gotten over some girl from high school but my heart was battling my mind for control of my limbs and my heart wanted my arms around her waist. “Okay,” I told my ex-high school sweetheart and she led me to a secluded table outside. It was dark out but still humid. Perspiration dabbed our noses before we even sat down.

       “What about your boyfriend or whoever you came with?” I asked.

       “He’ll be alright. Some of the guys from his frat are here so he’s talking with them,” Kay told me with a hint of anger in her voice. The Kay I knew back in the day hated the kinds of guys who joined frats, but people change tastes over time I guess. “Michael, I’m sorry how things ended between us.”

       “Oh,” I couldn’t say anything else back.

       “I was just so afraid of what could happen to you and I was scared to start school and… I’m just sorry. I loved you but I couldn’t do the distance,” actual sorrow took over Kay’s face. Her already big eyes seemed to grow.

       “Well, the past is done and doesn’t matter anymore,” I said lighting another cigarette.

       “M-may I have one of those?” Kay used to hate when I smoked in high school, one of the reasons I picked it up so heavily after our breakup. I handed her the pack and my lighter while looking somewhere far distant. She could light it herself. “The same brand I see, they remind me of you.” She took a drag and coughed lightly before puffing again.

       I took the pack back and placed it in the breast pocket of my jacket. Kay sat smoking silently before realizing her pink beverage was finished. She left to get a new one. I hung back debating on whether to ditch the place or make amends. Neither side was really winning and Kay returned before I could weigh the pros and cons of each side. Her eyes looked a little glassy when she returned. “Sorry, Jeremy and his fraternity brothers had me do a couple of shots with them,” I was informed.

       “Oh okay,” I replied. I guess Kay still had a weak tolerance. I was feeling a tiny hint of buzz but overall, I was still smooth and straight. The fresh air was helping sober me up.

       “Why are you being so cold to me, Michael?” Kay more screamed then asked. A couple looked over at our table before returning to their make-out session. “I know I broke up with you but it was four years ago. I’m sure it’s been a tough four years, but it isn’t like I didn’t struggle either. Classes got tough and I switched majors.”

       “I’m sorry that happened,” I answered coldly.

       “Just because you joined the military you think you’re so tough now, I bet you didn’t even see all that much anyway. You just don’t understand how tough it was in college. You only had to go to work then go home and party,” she was trying to hurt me, but I held my ground.

       “You’re right, I don’t understand,” my mind went to the tattoo of a circle around a scar on my ribs where an inch long chunk of metal had busted through and almost punctured my lungs if it hadn’t have gotten stuck between the bones. An arrow pointed to the circle with the word Lucky next to it. I didn’t like to use my service as an excuse or to one-up anybody when they talked about their troubles, but Kay’s words had stuck a bit.

       “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry,” she now pleaded, “I’m just trying to make myself feel better for what I did. It still hurts to think about.”

       “You did what you had to do,” I started to soften up, “who knows? If the shoe was on the other foot, maybe I would have done the same.” I told her, “I’m sorry that college was tough, but you’re graduated now, so you don’t have to worry about it any longer.”

       She lunged from her seat to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and practically sitting on my lap. “I’m so sorry, Michael. I still love you.”

       The sound of blood rushing took over my ears, “I love you too,” I said back before realizing that I was saying it but I meant the line. We were kissing. Slowly but strongly. I couldn’t tell who kissed first, but it was happening. Fireworks shot off somewhere inside me. We could have elevated and been slipping through space but we wouldn’t know.

       “Can we try this again?” Kay asked. We had tears in each of our eyes.

       “I-I would really like that,” I answered truthfully. “What about Jeremy?” his name felt like saying a harsh word.

       “He’ll get over it,” Kay said grabbing the chest of my shirt and pulling me into the bar, she dragged me to the outside and out in the street. The redheaded bartender smiled at me and mouthed Yay! When I looked over. “I live two blocks from here, come with me,” Kay said, not giving me an option. I walked her home and we started our second attempt at loving one another.